


First Do No Harm

by Anonymississippi



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Character Study, DNA, Drinking, Gen, Science, Season Two Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8697295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymississippi/pseuds/Anonymississippi
Summary: Alex Danvers is a doctor. She forgets sometimes, because she's so often surrounded by pain. But on days when field work takes a backseat to the comforts of a glass-walled lab, Alex works just as hard.
Though occasionally, the discoveries she stumbles upon aren't what she hoped they'd be.
(Or, the one where Alex maps the Kryptonian genome and doesn't tell a soul).





	

**Author's Note:**

> Alex kept some trace amounts of Kryptonite for experimenting.

 

 

_First do no harm._

Sometimes Alex forgets. Amid the gunfire and the secrecy and the military ops and the days that blur together, the times where the lasers sizzle flesh and poisonous spikes mutilate livers and spleens and brain matter, the quiet moments where she and Vasquez drink off the mission, the days when lying and infiltrating and strategizing and shooting overwhelm her—in the middle of all those events and more, Alex forgets that she’s a doctor.

_Not that kind of doctor_ , she once whispered—while Andrews bled out beside her in the back of a strike van.

She feels more hypocrite than Hippocratic, standing in her lab, pipetting samples of Kara’s swirling, foreign blood into a solution mixed with enough distilled Kryptonite to keep the compounds under tenuous control.

Kryptonian blood is fascinating.

She only has seconds to observe before the slide samples start shimmering, then deteriorate, the Kryptonite attacking and breaking apart the various blood cells—red cells, white cells, but more than thrombocytes and granulocytes and antigens. Kryptonian biology is complex and advanced, sheer perfection thanks to the Codex. There is science in those cells that could stimulate solar searches, one girl and one man in blue and red that don’t bleed, that don’t falter, because of a dwarfing sun. And Alex is one of perhaps three doctors in the world to manipulate those fantastic, mysterious cells, accelerated by star waves.

 

* * *

 

 

When Alex was seventeen years old, she was granted early admission to three Ivy league universities, offered four full rides to state schools, and had calls from recruiters at MIT, CalTech, and Johns Hopkins. But her mother still had Kara in high school, and neither Alex nor Eliza had gotten over the jarring loss of Jeremiah.

Moving across the country was out of the question.

Frankly, Alex couldn’t believe those calls kept coming during her senior year, when she was more interested in burgeoning rebellion and the sour taste of cheap, watery light lager. It was then that she discovered the blissful forgetting that came with drunken stupors. She would sneak in early Saturday mornings before her mother would wake (having turned up Kara’s white noise machine to deafening levels the evening before) and would playback the offers on the answering machine.

_Dr. Chowdhury at Johns Hopkins, hoping to get in touch with Miss Alexandra Danvers—_

_Professor Mathias Darnell, with the College of Biology at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology—_

_Hey there, Emoni Craigs from Roxy in partnership with Hurley’s aquatic division, looking to speak with an Alex Danvers about the surfing sponsorship application for the semi-pro tour—_

Alex would drink more on Saturday nights than she had the night before.

Eliza worried, but Alex hid it well.

Kara was oblivious because Alex hid it well.

 

* * *

 

 

Maybe that was the first lie. Not the DEO. Not J’onn’s identity. The reason she stayed and chose UCNC, despite how terribly she wanted to escape Midvale’s clutching proximity—get the hell away from secrets and a dead father with no answers and be a _person_ , someone undefined by who she had to protect:

_No, mom, really, I think UCNC is the best fit for me, and I’m not just saying that to stay close to Kara, I promise_.

Meanwhile, MIT offered semester trips to the ATLAS cavern in Switzerland, where the drinking age was only sixteen for beer, eighteen for liquor. Science and Sazeracs and subjectivity were as perpetually out-of-reach for Alex as Krypton was for Kara.

When you grow up knowing only danger in the truth, lies might as well be safe haven by default.

So how could Kara fault her now? One more lie to the growing pile, and it all started with an earthquake, Kryptonite bullets from Lucy's gun, Lillian Luther backhanding Kara across the face.

 

* * *

 

 

A single trickle of Kryptonian blood.

 

* * *

 

 

They’ve been better since Supergirl.

Since Kara took up her red-caped mantle, Alex had done her best to be open with her, to protect her without smothering her, to trust her with the truth. Major steps in truth-telling were taken last year: she had come clean about J’onn and finally, after the guilt became too crushing a burden to bear, she broke down over Astra’s death.

Last year, all the secrecy nearly killed Alex, and though she couldn’t be killed, the secrets were _harming_ Kara.

_First do no harm_.

Alex tasks herself to work harder, to learn to protect Kara against her only weakness.

Alex loves Kara. She wants to heal her, to keep her physically whole and holy to the worshipping National City Masses. Supergirl is infallible by virtue of origin, but she is susceptible to secret harms. Even without Kryptonite on the planet (that’s a lie, there’s always a stockpile, storage, General Lane and his military goons wouldn’t let it go without a fight-fight-fight), Alex does what she’s always done.

She prioritizes Kara.

 

* * *

 

 

Alex had selected the training, top-notch at NCNC, maybe not Hopkins, but still above and beyond as far as lab competency was concerned. When Alex was seventeen years old, the top scientific colleges in the nation were recruiting her. She turned them down. When Alex was seventeen years old, scientists had officially mapped the human genome.

She wanted to do that.

Right before Alex turns thirty years old, she maps the Kryptonian genome—or whatever the equivalent is (she realizes it’s up to _her_ to name it).

 

* * *

 

 

And it’s a miracle, truly, magic in the closest sense Alex has ever seen, but the world can’t know about her work. She can’t publish her findings, can’t present her paper at a conference or submit her name for a Nobel, even though this is light years past Nobel-worthy.

Alex does think about the lost accolades, sometimes. She’s human, after all, and some degree of notoriety will always be attractive to the attention-starved. But she doesn’t mope, can recognize her accomplishments for what they are… no matter how far she had to go to achieve them.

 

* * *

 

 

She isn’t proud of herself.

It’s no matter that Alex had wiped the largest Kryptonian DNA sample from the blade of a throbbing, poisonous sword.

It was disrespectful, irreverent, callous and possibly unethical, but it was also the most substantial sample that Alex had ever gotten her hands on. Between mapping the mutations with expensive bisulfite sequencing and submitting samples to methylation-specific melt curve analysis (with a few adjustments to the methodology to account for the extra synthetic ladder in the helix that distinguished the perfectly crafted Kryptonian DNA from that of humans), Alex was able to place the picture of the sample DNA against a picture of Kara’s DNA—pulled from blood shed during Kara’s power loss during last year’s earthquake.

The structure was exquisite, a genetic Taj Mahal. Never had Alex seen such architectural perfection, block after block of phosphate and nitrogen, curved so perfectly with the strangest synthetic component added, debunking the notion of a natural triple helix occurring.

This is what Jor-El must have seen, this synthetic piece, unnatural, an addition to breed out imperfections, and one that rendered natural Kryptonian pregnancy _inferior_.

Alex wonders how different Clark’s DNA structure is from Kara’s.

 

* * *

 

 

On a whim, she sends a syringe and needle laced with the little remaining Kryptonite the DEO possesses to Metropolis. She writes Clark, tells him she won’t fault him if he refuses, but she might be close to figuring out more about Kryptonian genetics. Never mind that Clark’s always been somewhat of a pansy-ass, refusing to truly partner with the DEO because of his one-man-show (also because he knows Alex would find a way to put him through testing that could end up _helping_ him, the idiot).

Alex is happily surprised to find three vials of blood sent via special courier on her lab table a week after her initial study of Kara’s and Astra’s sequencing. And so Alex gets to it, runs tests, drips red drops onto slides and into tiny plastic dishes and waits as the machines whir, as the blood in the industrial-grade centrifuge spins to separate components, as other samples are put through similar processes.

When the results come out, the differences are startling.

Firstly, her hypothesis was incorrect.

There is in fact a natural Kryptonian triple helix structure, but significantly less stable than the synthetic developments via the Codex in Kara’s and Astra’s samples. But there are tiny traces of chemical bases altered, here and there, portions that indicate development and influence that Clark exhibits, quite different from Kara’s sample.

That differentiation in itself is unremarkable. Alex knows mutations happen for a number of reasons in embryonic development. The markers Alex notes in Clark’s genetic sequence are simply too… alien, for lack of a better word. Untouched by advanced technology.

In order to prevent any inquisition on Kara’s part, Alex runs another favor by Clark. Next time he’s at the Fortress of Solitude, she wants him to ask Kelex a few questions, get some answers, and send them back her way.

 

* * *

 

 

A week passes before her questions are answered.

Kelex says there are no synthetic alterations made to Kryptonian DNA structures during development in the Codex. The triple helix is found in all Kryptonians on the most microscopic level, but it is natural. Kelex is unsure of any alterations.

Alex returns to the samples.

Breaking down an already broken DNA sequence takes careful study and focused attention and time, time, time. Alex stays late into the night ignoring her personal feelings for a cop with dimples and a steady girlfriend, waves J’onn off when he taps at the glass of her lab. The longer she looks at the blood, the less time she has to think about Detective Maggie Sawyer and light-headedness produced when Maggie misses the cue ball completely, or puts too much English on a shot gone crooked.

 

* * *

Kara’s chromosomes match up at roughly 12% with Clark’s—which means Jor-El and Zor-El must've had the standard Kryptonian tri-structure pattern in their DNA as brothers.

By process of elimination, Alex determines the synthetic anomaly in the helix must come from Kara's mother's side: Alura and Astra—the twins—a noted default in the Kryptonian’s perfected reproductive system.

Had there been some chemical injection administered during development, when the Kryptonians realized the Codex, the pinnacle of Krypton’s years of scientific breeding, had created a replicate?

An imperfection?

An aberration?

Alex exits her lab, rubbing at the grit behind her eyes, clutching a folder full of the genetic maps she’s been working on for nearly a month. She holds a sample of Kara’s DNA in hand, so opening the door to Alura’s AI doesn’t require her calling Supergirl in so late.

_It only opens for you._

Kara’s been having a difficult enough time adjusting to her promotion at CatCo, and truly, Alex is only doing this to _help_ Kara, not to make her life any more stressful than it has been with the loss of Cat looming over her.

She doesn’t need to go calling Supergirl in on a late night just to help her interrogate her mother’s AI.

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell me about the gestation process of the Codex. How was synthetic gene manipulation performed on Krypton?” Alex asks.

Alura flickers to life before Alex’s tired eyes. Her blue, pixilated robes flutter as she moves on the platform. Alex still feels strange looking into those green eyes; the holographic lids look as lifeless as the ones Alex closed after pulling Kara off of Astra’s body.

“There is no synthetic gene manipulation applied during fetal development in the Codex,” Alura says robotically.

“Nothing is added during fetal development to prevent… mutations?”

“There is no need. The Codex produces healthy Kryptonians," Alura answers. "It is the culmination of centuries of reproductive study.”

“What about with twins? Would there have been any synthetic or… outside material added during development to terminate one of the fetuses?”

_Would they have tried to kill you when they realized they made a mistake?_

“There is no synthetic gene manipulation applied during fetal development in the Codex,” Alura repeats.

“But what about you and Astra?” Alex pushes, confused, fatigued, frustrated.

“There is no synthetic gene manipulation applied during fetal development in the Codex,” Alura says once more, blinking blankly at Alex.

“Then when does it happen?” Alex mutters to herself, staring down at the strengthened third ladder structure on Astra’s and Kara’s genetic maps, curving in stark contrast to Clark’s sequence.

“Synthetic gene binding and manipulation occurs during inoculation procedures after military initiation,” Alura says.

Alex perks up at that.

“Military—what?”

“Synthetic gene manipulation and anitbody binding occurs during inoculation procedures after military initiation.”

“Is that—” Alex stares back at the maps, her neurons firing, fizzing like carbonation. “Is that the only time when genes are altered or… are there synthetic catalysts that spur mutations at any other point in development?”

“Kryptonians are bred to live out long, healthy lives on Krypton, with no need for inoculations as they age,” Alura answers.

Alex tries not to grimace at the word _bred_ , as if Kara came from a planet of Pomeranians.

“But at the expense of this development," Alura continues, "their gene sequence is incapable of producing the necessary antibodies that would prevent sicknesses commonly found on other planets. Therefore, gene-altering inoculations developed specifically to combat foreign illnesses must be administered prior to departing for those who travel off-world—these travelers are primarily members of the government, the military, and some scholars granted off-world visas.”

Alex glares at the hologram, transparent, informative, and utterly devoid of emotion. Even with the puzzle pieces fitting dangerously in her head, it’s not like she could hurt hologram-Alura’s feelings.

“Alura, did you ever go off-world?” Alex asks.

“My duties as adjudicator for the High Council did not extend to off-world relations.”

“So you never traveled to another planet?”

“No.”

“You never received synthetic... gene enhancements?”

“Synthetic gene manipulation occurs during inoculation procedures after military initiation. To prevent the need for expensive and tedious pharmaceutical regimens, a genetic inoculation is administered one season prior to off-world travel, so that Kryptonian genes can produce the necessary antibodies to combat off-world bacteria and viruses. The inoculation that alters the genetic sequence is administered to the military, diplomats, and scholars.”

Alex runs a hand over her lower jaw, trying to distract herself from the nausea curdling in her gut.

“When did Astra join the military?”

“Brigadier General Astra In-Ze, Arclominian of the First Order and First Born of the House of In-Ze, enlisted on day one of Flor, Cycle 9988, at the Academy in Kandor, and is recorded as reporting for her first combat mission as Specialist In-Ze, Cycle 9988 on the 49th day of Arcosion.”

“What Cycle was her first mission off-world?”

“Cycle 9989.”

Alex tenses, putting the maps away. “When was Kara Zor-El born?”

“Cycle 9993, the 17th day of Sarlos.”

“Alura,” Alex says, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Who was… who… did you love Zor-El?”

“I was married to Zor-El on the first day of Arcosion, Cycle 9990,” Alura reports. Her tone is perfectly bland, perfectly candid. She might as well be reading the phone book. “Our engagement lasted a quarter Cycle, as do all Kryptonian engagements. We lived in Argo City, where I presided as Adjudicator to the High Council.”

Alex shakes her head and looks at the ceiling above Alura's forehead, unable to even meet a _hologram's_ stare. “But did you _love_ him?”

“I am not equipped to answer that question.”

“Did you love Astra?”

Alura flickers, as if her projected form is fighting against an itch.

“I’m sorry, I am not equipped to answer that question.”

“Astra and Alura In-Ze… profiles,” Alex mutters.

“Astra In-Ze and Alura In-Ze are the only pair of twins the Kryptonian Codex has ever produced. Born in Argo City on the 49th day of Walsing, Cycle 9973. Brigadier General Astra In-Ze, Arclominian of the First Order, married diplomat Non-Ur, on the 55th day of Sarlos, Cycle 9997. Adjudicator Alura In-Ze married scientist Zor-El on the—”

“I don’t care about dates and marriages!” Alex interrupts. “Who is Kara’s mother?”

“I raised Kara from birth until the destruction of Krypton, during Cycle—”

“No!” Alex shouts at the hologram, and Alura stands by dispassionately. “Is Astra Kara’s biological mother? You and Astra have the same DNA but her sample has synthetic properties—properties that might would be passed on to a child!”

“Astra In-Ze and Alura In-Ze are the only pair of twins the Kryptonian Codex has ever produced. Unprecedented reproductions resulted in the only biological abnormalities ever recorded in Krypton’s recent history.”

“Who had the abnormalities?”

“I am not equipped to answer that—”

“Can your genes... if applied to the Codex, make a _child_?”

“Twins are uncommon on Krypton. They are a defect in the Codex. ”

“Can they reproduce?” Alex asks frantically. 

“There is one instance of a twin reproducing on Krypton.”

“Who?”

“Kara Zor-El was born on the 17th day of Sarlos, Cycle 9993.”

“Why do Kara’s genes possess traces of synthetic material in them if you never went off world?!” Alex yells, throwing the folder full of papers to the ground.

“I am sorry, I am not equipped to answer that question.”

What Alex would give for laser eyes and a time machine.

 

* * *

 

 

Alura’s AI is empty, though no less haunted than Astra had been as a walking, breathing psychopath. The night of the hostage transfer, when Astra had regarded Kara with such pride, Alex was sure the woman was questioning her loyalties. Midmorning in Kara’s apartment, with her steel fingers curled around Alex’s trachea, the lines in her face had hinted at a worry so deeply felt Alex marveled at the woman’s complexity of feeling… how could she fight against Kara so adamantly, and yet care for her well-being with a ferocity that would put grizzly bear mothers to shame? How could she look at that photograph of Kara and Alex on the beach and soften instantly?

_Alura—_

_How do you know that name?!_

Their first exchange, simmering with layers upon layers of withheld information, information Alex has come to learn through sheer fortune and scientific curiosity.

When Alex stoops to retrieve the files she discarded at Alura’s holographic feet in her flash of anger, she realizes the subject names on the tabs are all blurry.

She realizes she is crying.

_When did that happen?_

The last time she cried, she thought she was losing Kara forever—to martyrdom, to that damn cape, to the fathomless void from whence Kara came. Alex has only ever wanted to help Kara, has only ever wanted to protect her as a sister should. Protect her from those who would do her harm. Protect her from Astra, who had… who had told Alex all about the weakness of the Black Mercy. Who had saved Kara in her own way. Who Alex had run through with a blade, despite her hesitation in those final moments on the rooftop.

_Little One…_

Alex sinks against the wall in the private chamber, Alura’s hologram her only comfort. 

 

* * *

 

 

When Alex collects herself, it’s well past midnight.

She meanders down hallways and nods at those agents on nightshift, bypassing her lab, finding a secluded corridor near the entrance to the DEO. After some deft maneuvering and an unnoticed exit to the camp yard, Alex removes the materials from under her jacket. She empties a pilfered metallic waste bin of its contents and tosses a month and a half’s worth of scientific miracles into the bottom, vials and files and a syringe or three. She pulls out a flask of booze she keeps for tough missions and takes a pull, douses the papers, then watches the struck match fall and flicker as it hits the reports.

The Nobel Prize, gone up in flames.

But what accolade is worth that hurt?

Alex Danvers made a promise to her sister, and by doing so, backed herself into a treacherous corner. Sometimes Alex forgets she originally wanted to heal people, but then she thinks of Kara, and she remembers it’s her job to fix things.

She is a doctor, after all.

_First do no harm._

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in May and it's just been sitting on my desktop, so I made some tweaks that allowed it to be semi-canon-compliant. Also, I do NOT know how to SCIENCE, okay??? I can read articles and stuff but it's Greek to me and not in the cool Percy Jackson way, so sorry if I mutilated some of the phrasing I don't have a beta or a science degree :D ;D :D
> 
> I love kick-butt!Alex but I also love science!Alex, too. And I still think there's a case for Astra as Kara's mom... especially if the twins really were "defective" according to the Codex. I'd give an organ to know (read, have a spin-off) focusing on Kryptonian culture, the In-Ze Jaguars, and Astra's realization that the government was covering up an apocalypse.


End file.
